The Hat is Always Right
by Leunbrund
Summary: The year is 1922. A Welsh breaker boy discovers he has magic, and makes friends with three young witches. Then, when they go off to Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat rends them asunder. Will they find a way to stay friends? Or will the barriers of race and class prove too much to surmount, even in a world of magic? Co-authored with onewealthyhobo. Constructive reviews are welcome!
1. Prologue: Two Old Men

**Prologue: Two Old Men**

The Headmaster's Office of Hogwarts School never really stilled. One hundred strange contraptions worked to fill the silence, ticking, whirring, humming softly and emitting purple puffs of smoke. They made an ambient orchestra of sound, motion, and summer sunlight, drifting through the tower window to paint patterns on the floor.

Above the din, the steady scratching of a quill on parchment played inelegant staccato. It stood alone upon the pages of a large volume, moving unaided by human hands, in a far corner of the room, loops of midnight ink trailing behind it on the page. Phineas Nigellus Black sat behind his desk and watched from across the room, a heavy frown upon his face. He was a squat, middle-aged man, with a regal bearing about his shoulders, and a deep velvet cap upon his balding head. Dark black eyes, like river pebbles, flickered as the pen reached the end of one page, then re-whetted itself in a vial of ink before continuing.

After a time, the pen set itself down, and was still. Black rose from his desk and removed the volume from its stand. His eyes flickered over the cursive letters, the ink drying even as he watched. The names on the page were two more wizarding children born to Great Britain, and, as such, destined to be invited to Hogwarts when they reached their coming of age. Black's frown deepened considerably.

With heavy steps, he returned to his desk and flipped back through the pages of the volume, to earlier entries. Then, he took out his own quill and reams of stacked paper out of the topmost drawer.

"It gets worse every year," he announced suddenly, his deep voice rumbling above the tick and whir of magical machinery. "Soon, I won't recognize a single family on that list."

In the corner chair, a middle-aged man with a long amber beard and bright, sapphire colored robes tended to a platter of tea and cakes. He flicked his wand, and the pot at his elbow topped off Black's china cup. "I don't see anything wrong with meeting new people," he commented lightly.

"I have nothing against meeting new people, Albus, as well you know," Black retorted.

"And yet I sense a deep foreboding in you," Albus Dumbledore, head of Gryffindor house and professor of Transfiguration, returned with a widening smile.

"Do not mock me!" Phineas Black replied, his hand hesitating a moment over his letters. He resumed again shortly. "It just…pains me, to see the old names fading away. Surely you can understand that."

Dumbledore casually waved his hand to placate the headmaster. This was not a new argument between them. "I do not believe they fade, old friend. They change, perhaps, and reinvent themselves surely, but they do not vanish. Such is the nature of time."

Black shook his head before Dumbledore had even finished. He pulled himself another piece of parchment and began the next acceptance letter. "They dilute," he spat. "Their magic grows thinner, and we get weaker. The list of worthy incoming students gets shorter every year. Soon, there won't be anything left of us at all."

Dumbledore hummed low in his throat. "Well….when you put it like that, it does sound rather gloomy…You believe this to be true, don't you."

Black's pen bit into the parchment. "I believe it to be true. As headmaster of this school, it is my duty to ensure that wizarding folk grow up to be upstanding members of our community. But the students coming in are not the students of yester-year. They don't know our ways, anymore. We're dying out, Albus. Surely you see that."

Dumbledore scoffed. "We are not dying! Our student body has been increasing every year for the past three decades, and continues to do so! The students who arrive at our doorstep are new blood, as they have always been."

"It is not new blood we need, but old."

"And what do you suggest, Phineas?" Dumbledore replied heatedly. "Ban intermarriage, perhaps? Keep it all in the family? If that were done, we might as well stop teaching altogether, fire the staff, rent a one-room schoolhouse! There wouldn't be any of us left!"

Headmaster Black paused again, a sneer curling lips. "They do not understand our world!"

Dumbledore opened his hands and gestured about them. "Is this not a school we sit in? Are we not teachers? And are they not students?"

"There are certain things about is that you cannot teach, Albus! If I hadn't signed that contract binding me to accept every magical student in the whole of Great Britain, I would not admit half of these children." Fury screeched in every stroke of Black's pen.

Dumbledore sighed, and let the matter drop. They were just yelling themselves in circles."I still disagree, Phineas," he concluded.

Without reply, Black finished the second letter, folded it, and sealed it in a thick parchment envelope with scarlet wax. He stacked it to the right of the first, a separate pile for a separate group of students. It was the headmaster's firm belief that the recipients of this second set of letters would never do the wizarding world a lick of good. As Black pulled out another piece of parchment, Dumbledore sipped on his tea, and ate his cakes in sullen silence.


	2. Chapter 1: The Man in the Silk Top Hat

**Chapter 1: The Man in the Silk Top Hat**

Evening fell over the Welsh countryside as it always had, like a dark cloak pulled up around someone's shoulders all at once. Petulant rain fell down from skies the color of a coal miner's lungs. Too much rain. This time of year was always wet along the shores of Sully, and although the fields loved a good wash, Joshua was of the opinion that they had had quite enough this year. He scrambled along the rocky beach where he had been playing, and wished for a real summer.

The clouds opened up. Joshua snatched his shoes out of the sand. He smacked them against one another to clean them off, but didn't bother putting them on. Already soaked from playing in the water, Dad would have his hide if he ruined another pair of socks. Wary of sunset and already running behind, Joshua found the road and made tracks.

The world was already flooded from a week's hard rain and not an awful lot of sunshine in between. Puddles gathered in the wagon trail rutted permanently near the middle of the path. Joshua made a game of walking along the little patch of dirt between the tracks, enjoying the sensation of green weeds and mud against his toes. Before long, he crested the top of the hill near the Jones' farmhouse and paused a moment to catch his breath. In the valley, he could just make out the little winking lights of his village through the smearing rain. He kept on.

Although Barry to the west and Cardiff to the east had grown fat off of coal profits and modern comforts, Sully hadn't changed much in the past 100 years. The Perkins family still kept pigs in the pen huddled against their ramshackle cottage by the road. On sunny days, women still hung out their laundry to dry in the wind, and the only telephones in town belonged to the doctor, and the mayor. Only two things, really, marked the passage of time. Electricity had come to the village in the past decade, lighting up the nights and giving children an excuse to stay up late. And there weren't so many men around, as there used to be. Men, who had gone to fight in the Great War on the mainland, but a full half of whom had never returned. Those who had were changed, but as to what they had seen and done, no one really knew. They kept their secrets to themselves, shared over beer and smokes after the women had gone to bed, but never with anyone else. Joshua was one of the lucky ones. His father had come home, and he had a steady job working the coal mines to the north. Not every boy he knew as quite so fortunate.

Main Street was dark and empty by the time Joshua got home. He fumbled with the slippery iron latch of the side door to his family's cottage, and snuck into the kitchen. It was a dim, drafty place on the best of days. The papered walls were peeling, and wooden-panel floors gathered grime along their edges. Dishes overflowed in the sink. Everything smelled faintly of mold, but Joshua had never known much else, and it was good to be out of the rain. He squeezed the water out of his shirt and tossed his shoes aside before checking the pot of pea soup squatting eternally on the stove. Unsurprisingly, it was cold. Mother had let the fire die again.

Joshua sighed. He went around the side of the house to the woodpile to get supper going again.

Martyn, the neighbor's tortoiseshell cat, was crouched under the lean-to, hiding from the rain. He perked up at Joshua's approach.

"Hey, kit."

"_Mew_."

Cheered, Joshua scratched behind the creature's ears and stroked the length of his body. Martyn purred, and for a moment Joshua forgot to be upset. "Do you want to come in? We might have some milk for you in the cold box."

Martyn had wide, intelligent yellow eyes. After a moment of staring, he leapt off the wood pile and slipped through Joshua's legs. Joshua giggled. He gathered three logs into his arms before following the cat into the house.

A few minutes later, their lot was beginning to look up. Joshua got the stove going. He turned a light on. Martyn perched happily on the table with a platter of cream to suck on. The skies came down as hard as ever, but it was dry here inside, and beginning to warm up. Joshua dipped a piece of store-bought bread into Martyn's dish. The cat glared, but Joshua knew it for bluff and settled with his treat on one of the kitchen chairs. The sound of the rain soothed all thoughts of discontent from Joshua's mind.

Then, suddenly, someone knocked at the front door.

Joshua went very still. He waited. The knock came again, heavy and firm. Should he answer it? Maybe if he didn't, they would go away…

The sound came a third time. Cautiously, Joshua got up from his seat, stepped quietly through the living room, and opened the door.

Standing in front of him was a tall, dark-robed stranger, broad of shoulder and trim of beard, with hazel eyes set deep in his round face. He touched his hand to the brim of his tall top hat, and offered Joshua a warm smile. "Hullo there, old chap. This wouldn't happen to be the Ellis household, would it?"

Joshua carefully kept the door in between them. He leered out from a crack three inches wide, the chain lock dangling down on top of his head. "Yeah."

"Ah! you must be Joshua!"

For a split moment, Joshua thought that maybe this was a friend of his parents'. But his clothes were too nice for him to be a miner, and the only men Mum ever had over were local. The stranger was dressed like someone important, someone from the city. That didn't sit very well with Joshua at all. He didn't say a word.

The man deflated a little bit. "Are your parents at home?"

"…Let me check." Joshua shut the door a little too hard, and turned his back to the wood for a moment. He exhaled.

"Muuuuuum?" To Joshua's relief, he heard movement beyond the closed door of the master bedroom. He crossed the den and hovered. "Mum, there's a man outside."

"Mmmmwuh…wuh? What?" A moment later, his mother appeared in the doorway. Joshua had inherited his mother's looks almost exactly. She had dark hair, and jade colored eyes, and her nose was snub and pointed. At one point, she might have been rather pretty, but the years and the drink had taken their toll. Her skin was sallow, and her shoulders were beginning to stoop. It appeared rather as though Joshua had woken her.

"There's a man outside," Joshua repeated.

Mum grimaced. She rubbed at her face and stumbled past Joshua into the living room.

The stranger was waiting patiently on the front stoop where Joshua had left him. He brightened when Mum slid the lock back and opened the door. "Hullo, marm! Delyth Ellis, I presume?"

"…I am. What do you want?"

Unperturbed, the man held out his hand for Mum to shake. "My name is Jeremiah Finch. And although I do have other business, at the moment, I'd really love to come in out of the rain, if you wouldn't mind terribly."

After a second or two of consideration, Mum moved aside and allowed Mr. Finch to enter.

Mr. Finch filled the room. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but there was something about his personality that charged the room. With a satisfied sigh, he took the hat off his head and hung it on the stand by the door. "Thank you, thank you. Hoo! Lovely home you have here, Mrs. Ellis. Just wonderful."

Joshua thought Mr. Finch must be giving flattery. Lovely was never an adjective he would have used to describe the Ellis homestead. Mum seemed equally confused. "Erm…thank you. Thank you very much, Mr. Finch. Would you…care for a seat?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Ellis. I don't mind if I do." Mr. Finch hung his overcoat beside his hat. Underneath, he wore a white shirt, a smart black vest, and ironed grey pants with a silver watch chain peeking out of one pocket. A lawyer, Joshua decided. He must be a lawyer to dress like that in a backwater town like this.

Seated and comfortable, Mr. Finch rubbed his hands together with an air of finality. Mum seated herself uneasily on the faded red couch across from him. "Excellent. Now, to that other business I mentioned. I- Wait just a tick. Where is Mr. Ellis? Is he at home?"

"He is not."

Mr. Finch waited expectantly, but when Mum did not elaborate, he prodded. "Where might he be? What I have to say concerns him, as well."

"I'd be happy to take a message for him, Mr. Finch."

Mr. Finch's jovial demeanor hardened a touch. "No! No. It is imperative that he be here, if he be able."

Mum sighed, assessing Mr. Finch with her eyes. "I don't see why."

"Because it is about your son..." Mr. Finch looked to Joshua, who hovered in the corner of the room out of the way. The man offered him an encouraging smile, but suddenly, Joshua felt sick. Concerned him? Why? What had he done? Was he in trouble?

Mum must have been thinking along similar lines, because she consented. "…Joshua? Go see if your father isn't down at _Gwynnedd's_ would you?"

Without another word Joshua slipped into the kitchen, passed Martyn who was still at his cream, and dashed barefoot out into the rain.

* * *

About an hour later, Joshua sat sandwiched between his parents on the couch, facing Jeremiah Finch and trying to calm his palpitating heart.

Father had come home immediately when Joshua showed up at the tavern, soaked to the skin and covered in mud from the street. Originally from England, David Ellis had hair the same fiery red as the day he and his wife had been married, and wore a bristle-brush moustache to match. Crow's feet around his dark brown eyes betrayed a kindness of personality that the suspicion in his gaze belied. Clearly he didn't think very much of Mr. Finch.

Mum had kindled a fire in the grate while Joshua was away. The flames cast bright light and dancing shadows across the living room floor.

After a moment or two of heavy silence, Mr. Finch dug into the breast of his coat pocket and withdrew a thick envelope sealed with dark red wax. He handed it to Joshua. "This is for you."

Joshua turned the package over and over in his hands, wishing he could deduce the contents just by staring hard enough. He had never seen parchment before. It was thick, and surprisingly soft.

Mr. Finch chuckled. "Open it!"

Joshua squinted nervously, and slowly stuck his finger beneath the flap of the package. He unfolded the letter.

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**Dear Mr. Ellis,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment. Term begins September the 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st.**

**Signed Sincerely,**

**Phineas Nigellus Black**

**Headmaster**

**_(Order of Merlin, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, International Confed. of Wizards)_**

Joshua had never been a very strong reader. He combed the passage three times over silently, searching for answers that were not there. At length, he looked up at Father for an explanation. But he found nothing but confusion there. So instead, he turned to Mr. Finch. "Erm…What does this mean?"

Finch nodded, and leaned forward onto his lap in a jovial manner that brought his eye level down to Joshua's. It felt professional, but welcoming. "Well, Mr. Ellis. It is with great pleasure that I inform you that you are a wizard."

Father's round face creased in an unhappy frown. "Wizard? What the devil do you mean?"

Finch was not intimidated. "I mean exactly as I say, Mr. Ellis. Hard as it might be to believe, we have known for some time now that your son Joshua possesses magical ability."

"_We_?"

"Yes. The wizarding community." Finch held up his hands as Father opened his mouth to protest. "Please, Mr. Ellis, allow me to explain."

"At your leisure!"

Joshua had rarely seen Father so upset. It was more frightening because he did not know why. He looked down again at the letter in his hands and reamed through the other papers included. He found a list of tuition and fees, and the aforementioned list of supplies, which detailed cauldron, robes, _wand_...! Joshua licked his lips. All of a sudden Finch was much more interesting.

"I am representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy," Jeremiah Finch began. "We are a fine establishment in the far northern reaches of Great Britain, dedicated to teaching young girls and boys who have the talent about their magic. Our history goes back for over one thousand years-"

"Witchcraft? _Wizardry_?" Father shouted incredulously. "What nonsense are you talking! We are good Christian folk, here, Mr. Finch."

"I do not dispute that," Finch replied calmly. "Our kind are quite familiar with your views on who we are, and I will assure you that we at Hogwarts do not teach the sort of magic that you need to fear. We are not devil-worshippers, Mr. Ellis. We do not dance around fires naked beneath moonlight, nor do we encourage the practice. Your son has been blessed with a gift! We at Hogwarts wish only to see it developed."

Mum laid gentle fingers on the letter still clutched in her son's hands. He permitted her to take it. Joshua couldn't quite translate the expression on her face, caught someplace between consternation and fear. Her pale green eyes flickered over the letter, and then up to meet Jeremiah Finch. "If I'm t'understand you, Mr. Finch," she said. "Then...you would be a wizard, too, would you not?"

Finch nodded. "I am an instructor at the school, yes."

"Then you have magic also?"

Finch nodded again.

"Prove it."

For a moment, there was no sound save the crackling of the fire. Finch sighed. Out of the breast of his jacket he produced what to any description would have been called a wand. Long and pale, Finch gestured with it in the air like a conductor's baton, towards a shelf of ornamental dishware sitting neglected in the corner. "_Accio dishware_," he announced.

Before the Ellis family could laugh at him, a dusty old ceramic plate floated easily towards them. Finch plucked it out of the air and held it easily in both hands. Joshua beamed with wonder.

"I assure you, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis, your son's gift is very real," Mr. Finch said lowly.

He was met with silence, although Joshua was positively bursting with questions. "We at Hogwarts would like to help Joshua understand and use his talent. But, ultimately, the decision does ride with you."

"...What of his tuition? We don't have th'kind of money to send him to private school, even if we wanted," Mum pointed out carefully. She kept her eyes trained at the letter. Father gawked, shocked she were even considering this.

"Do not concern yourselves," Finch said. "We were aware of your fiscal means when we wrote out his acceptance letter. I will handle tuition and fees myself."

Father was shaking his head. "What? Of your own pocket? Why? Whatever for? What have we done for you that would merit this kindness? I may be nothing but a coal-miner, but when a thing sounds too good to be true, I find often that this is the case. We can't afford to be in your debt."

Finch had a warm, unexpected smile. It made his hazel eyes twinkle. "All I ask from you is the pleasure of teaching him," he said. "I am head of a program that gives grants to promising children of poor means to go to school. Joshua is a promising student, and you, his family, cannot afford to send him. So, if you would desire it, my group will send him for you. It is that simple."

Father opened his mouth to say Joshua knew not what, and he would never find out, because Mum cut him off. "We can't decide right away," she said. "It's too much to ask."

Finch made a placating gesture with his hands. "Of course." He rose to his feet. "Take your time to think about what I have just said. I will be in town for the next couple of days, staying at the _London Sherry_ inn. Room twenty four. You may leave me a message at the reception, or approach me personally, with your answer."

A small voice piped up. "Do I need to catch an owl?" All eyes turned on Joshua. He shrank into his shoulders. "...it says to send an owl," he muttered.

Mr. Finch burst into hearty laughter, a strange sound in that dreary little cabin, one that chased the darkness away better than the bright fire in the hearth. "Hahahahah! No, lad. No. You leave the owl to me!"


	3. Chapter 2: Standard Black

**Chapter 2: Standard Black**

The McGee summer house overlooked Kensington Gardens, London, with all the pomp and circumstance of the debutantes who lived within. Protected from prying eyes by one thousand and one anti-Muggle charms, anyone without magic in their veins would be blind to the lavish gardens, lush hedges, burbling fountains and elegant early 1800's architecture that comprised their well-to-do homestead. The scent of flowers saturated the air. Wrought brass gates glittered in the sun. Every surface of the mansion was an excuse to brag; even in hiding, the McGees were compelled to be ostentatious.

The mournful notes of a requiem floated out from within the decorated walls. A tall, gangly girl sat in the middle of the ivory-white music room and wrapped herself around a cello. She made the instrument weep. Her fingers, long and large-knuckled, were not beautiful to look at, but she coaxed subtle notes from the strings with a skill beyond her scant eleven years. The room echoed with her grief.

_"No, no, no!"_

A sharp, masculine voice cut through the song like rusting iron scissors. The girl stopped playing. Resignation oozing from her every pore, she propped the bow on her bony shoulder and sighed. Behind her, her instructor paced the room, twitching nervously. "You're rushing it again. You must play the pauses!" he cried. "Again, Bernice. Again, you must _pause._ Like an intake of breath, my dear. You must play as if you are singing._" _

Bernice slumped in her seat, disgracing the beautiful chair with her terrible posture. "I'm tired of _singing_," she groused. "We've been at this for houuuuurrrsss, Maverick. Can't I play the ukulele for a moment? Five minutes! Please!"

"That is _Mr. Rivers_, to you," her instructor corrected sternly. Small and slight, Mr. Rivers' sleet grey robes clung tight about his chest, contrary to his round face and a tendency to pink whenever he was impassioned. At the moment, he was positively scarlet. "Besides. You know that if it were not a gift from your grandfather, I would have thrown that poor excuse for a string instrument out with the rest of the rubbish."

_Tap, tap, tap._

Student and instructor both turned their heads towards the sudden sound. A tawny owl perched upon the windowsill, impatiently bumping its beak against the pane. It had important mail to deliver, and it did not have all day in which to do so.

Mr. Rivers deflated. With all the air of an exasperated pigeon, he crossed the room and opened the window to allow the owl inside. It floated over the grand piano before perching on a marble bust along the far wall. Again, the music instructor crossed the room. He inspected the package.

"It's for your father," he told Bernice wearily. "And it looks important. I suppose I should fetch him..." He paid the owl a handful of knuts, and turned towards his student. "That might as well conclude our lesson for today. Gather your things! Your mother will be waiting for you."

Bernice could not vacate her seat quickly enough. Hardly had Mr. Rivers finished speaking than she sprinted past him and out into the immaculate halls, her shoes clacking against the unadorned marble floor.

Compared to the glamour of the outside, everything within the walls the McGee estate was clean, polished, and colorless. The floors were white, the drapery and ornamentation in ebony black. Everything echoed, and the air was always cold. Bernice slipped past the dark, forbidding door of her uncle's quarters, and jogged up the stairs to kinder places. Bernice's rooms, and her brother's, were the only splotches of life in the whole of the house. Bernice took great glee in the clutter, the chaos, the bright greens and blues of the paintings on her walls, the scarlet cloth hanging above the gated windows. Personal effects lay strewn haphazardly across the floor and the small desk in the far corner of the room. Clothing spilled out of the closet, the bureau, her armoire, screaming for release. This was the one place in the house that Bernice could call home, and she possessed it jealously. Once inside, she closed the door behind her and threw herself face down upon her bed for relief.

Mother and Father were waiting downstairs for her, so they could go to Diagon Alley. Every other boy and girl her age would have flown down to meet them, but Bernice dreaded this trip. More than having to suffer through an afternoon with her parents, she shrank back from the journey to Hogwarts that would follow. She did not want to go. She would rather be anywhere in the world but Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But the McGees were a pureblood family, and she had no choice in the matter. She never did.

Soft knuckles interrupted her thoughts, rapping gently on the door. Bernice could tell who it was without needing to see. Her brother was the only one in her family who was ever polite enough to ask before entering her room. She slipped off the bed to let him in.

"Heeeeey," she said.

Little Daniel McGee was only six years old, but he possessed all the beauty of their parents that Bernice had not inherited. His pale grey eyes, far bluer and brighter than Bernice's, looked up at her from behind sandy blond bangs. He did not smile, for he was not a smiling child, but went to his sister immediately and wrapped her in small arms.

For a moment or two, they stood in the doorway together. Neither of them said a word. At last, Daniel muttered into Bernice's stomach. "I don't want you to go."

Bernice's omnipresent smirk faded. She stroked her brother's hair more tenderly even than the strings she played. "It's not for long this time," she told him. "I'll be back before the sun goes down." Her words were kind, but her heart was heavy. Daniel always made it hard to leave.

"I asked mummy if I could come to, but she said no," Daniel said sadly.

"Mummy is dumb as a flobberworm," replied Bernice. "Don't take anything she says seriously."

Her words earned her a giggle. Daniel looked up at her with dimples around his mouth. "Promise you'll be back for supper?" he asked.

Bernice tapped his button nose. "Cross my heart, hope to die. Violently."

Daniel tittered again. Just then, the sound of Mrs. McGee's voice called from down the hall. "Bernice? Bernice! We've been waiting downstairs for almost an hour. It's time to _go_!"

Bernice sighed, and her brother's smile melted. They clung together a moment more. "Love you," Bernice whispered.

"I love you, too," Daniel whispered back. Reluctantly, Bernice let go of him, and turned to meet her mother, her back held straight and proud. Little Daniel watched her go.

* * *

Joshua Ellis stood in the middle of the most wonderful, fantastic, and certainly magical street he had ever seen. People in many-colored robes whirled around him in numbers impossible for him to count. The air smelled not of the dank, clinging fumes of coal, or the briny reek of the shore, but of crackling fireplaces, animal musk, and cinnamon. This was Diagon Alley.

He passed a store with bat spleens and spider's eyes for sale, three knuts a scoop; a fantastic candy shop with more wonderful sweets than he had ever imagined; and stalls selling every kind of toy, from tops that sparked and spun when you touched them, to wooden horses that moved like the real thing. The air crackled with the kind of excitement a country boy like him had never known. Joshua scampered to the side of the cobbled street and watched as witches and wizards moved by on their own business, utterly ignorant of the little boy in soot-stained clothing that stared at them as they passed.

_Witches and wizards._

A week ago, he would have thought them little more than the stuff of fairy tales. Bedtime stories like his mother used to tell to him, before she started smelling so much like alcohol. Even now it was a little hard to believe. But his parents, for reasons Joshua could not quite understand, had agreed to take Mr. Finch at his word when he told them that their son possessed the gift of magic. Joshua wished he had been a fly on the wall of his parent's bedroom the night Mr. Finch had arrived, to hear the conversation that would make him an academic. He hadn't set foot in a public schoolhouse since before the Great War, and Mr. Evans, the professor, had been drafted. In a poor family like Joshua's, losing their only son to the call of higher learning was a sacrifice his parents had never seemed inclined to make before. Perhaps it was the magic that made this different.

Whatever her reasons, Mum had somehow found the funds to get him a train ticket to London. Jeremiah Finch had set him up with scholarship, all fees paid, and fifty gold galleons in his pocket for the books, wands, and any other accessories he might need. Joshua made the trip to London alone, because Mother could not afford two seats, and Father, like always, had to work. But Joshua didn't mind. He knew how to take care of himself, and far from feeling neglected, he was just happy that he had been allowed to come at all.

Joshua took his acceptance letter out of his bag, still lovingly tucked away in its parchment envelope, and stroked it softly before slipping out the list of things he needed to buy. Robes. Books. Cauldron. A wand. Joshua's heart flooded with excitement. It was like a dream, except the sun was rather too much in his eyes, and his legs hurt from walking. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and tried to think where he ought to start.

Robes came first on the list, and so robes it was. He made his way down the gleaming cobble of the Alley, and kept his eyes peeled for a tailors' shop. He paused in front of a place called _Melinda's Secondhand Robes and Raiments._ This seemed right. He took a deep breath, and stepped reverently over the threshold.

Inside the shop was dim and cluttered, but still fancier than anything Joshua had ever seen back in Sully. At least here, the air was dry. Tenderly he approached the first rack of floor-length robes, ranging in color from vibrant pinks to faded grey, and every material imaginable. He ran his hand along the soft, well-worn fabric of a pastel blue dress cloak, and allowed himself a moment just to gawk. He had never been much for clothes, but these weren't exactly what he was used to seeing on people every day. Then, carefully so as not to bump into anything, he made his way down the crowded the aisle and found _Melinda's_ large section of 'standard black robes' written on his shopping list. A girl about his own age and only a little taller than him, already occupied the space. She had wavy blue-black hair and skinny ankles, and moved over a little to let Joshua in. She smiled at him. "Hi," she said.

"Hi." Shy, Joshua kept his focus on the robes and not on the girl. He swore he could feel her watching him. Her sapphire eyes were enormous in her face.

"Are you shopping for school, too?" She had a gentle voice, a little airy, but sweet, like pansies

"Uh-huh."

"Oh," said the girl. The sound of hangars scraping against their metal racks echoed in the otherwise quiet shop. "Hogwarts? It has to be Hogwarts. No one goes anywhere else, here, do they."

"I...guess," said Joshua. He wished a little that she would leave him alone, but the girl didn't seem to be picking up on the hint.

"My name's Merryl. I'm here with my mum and dad."

"I'm here by myself," Joshua stated, matter-of-factly.

Merryl's eyes rounded balefully."By yourself?"

"That's what I said," Josh replied. He pulled a robe off the rack and held it up to his chest. They appeared to be unisex. This one was much too big, so he put it back.

"Oh..." Merryl was quiet for long enough that Joshua thought she had lost interest in him. But then she pulled out a robe of her own, and handed it to him. "Here, then. Try this one."

Joshua hesitated. 'What?"

"Try it on. I think it'll fit you."

Bewildered, Joshua took the robe and wrapped it around his clothes. It hung past his ankles, and the sleeves would need to be rolled back, but it was better than the one previous. Only after a moment or two of standing there did it really click in Joshua's head that he was wearing wizard's robes.

The look he gave Merryl must have been funny, because she laughed. "You look ravishing," she teased.

Joshua went to find himself a mirror. He took off his paperboy cap and examined himself for a moment. Staring back at him was a small, slight boy, with greasy black hair and enormous ears. Freckles danced across his round cheeks, and small, snub nose. Joshua was so stunned to see himself, for moment, that he stopped breathing.

Merryl came up beside him, and Joshua beamed back at her, baring a slight overbite and two large front teeth. "This is the first time I've worn robes," he admitted.

Merryl covered her mouth with her hand and giggled from sheer contagion. "What, really? How old are you?"

"Eleven," Joshua said. He turned back to the mirror and admired the way he looked, even if the robe was two sizes too big.

"I take it your folks aren't for dinner parties?" she asked. "Because I've been wearing robes since I could walk."

Joshua shook his head. "They can't cast magic," he declared. "So I've never had to."

Merryl's smile faded slightly. "Your...your parents are Muggles?"

"Is that what you call them?" Joshua shrugged excitedly out of the robe, and tucked it under his arm. He checked the price tag. Seven knuts. He remembered from Finch's lesson that knuts were less than sickles were less than galleons. He didn't know the count for each, but he knew he had enough in his pocket, and that was what mattered. Determined, he went to go find more robes of the same size.

This time, though, Merryl did not follow. She hesitated by the mirror and said, "Erm...yes. Muggles are people who can't cast magic. Unless you're from a wizarding bloodline. In which case, if you can't cast magic, you're a squib. No one wants to be one of those. Is that why your parents aren't with you?"

Joshua shook his head, still rifling through the robes. "No. They're just...erm, busy."

Merryl licked her lips. "Oh. I mean, hm."

Finally catching her anxiety, Joshua paused. Something was wrong. "…What. What is it?"

"Nothing, nothing," Merryl said. "Just, I would be careful about who you tell that to. That you're a, that you're Muggle-born I mean."

The happy feelings in Joshua's belly died entirely. "Why?"

"Because," Merryl tried to explain. "Not everyone is...not all wizards are good about it. You know? I mean, my mum's a Muggle. But we were never that rich, or powerful. So, it didn't really matter that daddy married out of magic. But to some people, I hear it means a lot."

Joshua didn't entirely understand, at first. _I suppose...even wizards have problems_, he thought slowly. That made him sad. He didn't like the idea of being disliked here, in this magical new world. He got enough of that at home. "Alright," he concluded, with a sinking. "I'll be careful."

Merryl joined him again by the racks of black robes. The two of them were mostly while they found the rest of what they needed. Then, Merryl's name floated over the top of the many stands. "Are you just about ready, duckling?"

"Almost, Mum." Merryl said.

Merryl's mother was a tall, raven-haired lady who looked rather more like Merryl's sister than her parent. She wore no makeup, but had lovely skin with just the faintest trace of crow's feet about her eyes, and kindness in her mouth. Joshua chanced a glance up at her, but decided he didn't really want to confront her. So he slipped away while mother and daughter were in conversation.

At the teller, he offered the cashier one of his precious, gleaming golden galleons, in exchange for the robes and a large pointed hat, which he remembered last minute. Once he was out again in the summer sunshine, he stashed his change safely away in the bag at his waist.

"Hey! You didn't say goodbye."Joshua looked to find Merryl sharing his doorway with a grin on her face. Her father and mother stood beside her.

"Oh," said Joshua awkwardly. "Erm...Goodbye?"

Merryl giggled. She seemed to find him very funny. "You're odd, you know that?"

"...Thanks?"

More laughter. "Say, my parents want to know; would you like to go out and have an ice cream with us?"

"An ice cream?"

"Father offered, when I told them you were alone."

"...Did you tell them my parents were squibs, too?" Joshua asked reproachfully. If it was a bad thing, he didn't want anyone to know.

Merryl shook her head, her hair bouncing. "No. But, that's because your parents aren't squibs. They're Muggles."

"Oh...So, you didn't tell them, that they're Muggles."

"I could, if you'd like!" Merryl rolled her eyes good naturedly, and, without waiting for Joshua to answer, she went on. "Do you want to come for ice cream or not? My parents will pay for you."

Joshua considered. He regarded Mr. and Mrs. Merryl's Parents suspiciously and tried to decide what he thought of them. They seemed well enough. Slowly, he nodded. "Sure."

Merryl grinned. "Hooray! Come on then, keep up! Mr...?"

"Mr.?"

"What's your _name_?"

"Oh…I'm Joshua…Ellis. Joshua Ellis."

"A _pleasure_ to meet you, Mr. Joshua," Merryl said, with fond feeling. "Now let's _go, _Mum gets cranky when she's a hankering for Black Raspberry Snaps."

"She ought to get that checked out," Joshua quipped. This time, when Merryl laughed, he did, too.

* * *

_I don't see why I couldn't go by myself, _Bernice thought ruefully. But she was wise enough not to say it with her parents within earshot.

Cornelius and Ophelia McGee had taken precious time out of their busy lives to escort their only daughter on her first shopping trip for school supplies, and if she appeared ungrateful, that would be the end of her desserts for a week.

Mostly, Bernice knew, it was for show. Her mother and father hoped she would use this opportunity to make connections, because to the McGees, everything was power, prestige, and how to find it. They were obsessed with appearances. Fortunate, then, that both of them were possessed of fine good looks. Ophelia was willowy and elegant, with a taste for white and impeccable manners. By contrast, her tall, equally handsome husband was stout in all the right places, and not even the years could erase the baby fat still clinging stubbornly to his cheeks and jaw. Between them, Bernice seemed to have inherited the worst traits of each parent. She was awkward and gangly to her mother's easy grace, but had been cursed with her father's large hands and feet, and round, round face. The whole effect was rather one of a scarecrow with not enough stuffing. Bernice skulked after her parents wished she were just about anywhere else.

"Posture, dear." Ophelia cooed.

Bernice bit her tongue and straightened her back. She decided that getting the most dangerous pet she could find would be compensation enough for this torture.

They entered _Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions._ The MecGees didn't usually shop here; they were rather more inclined to Mrs. Pottage, their personal tailor. But this outing was for Bernice's visibility, and the very thought of getting one's school robes fitted anywhere else was an insult. At the moment, Madam Malkin herself was already busy attending to a customer, a portly girl with curly hair so pale it was nearly white. She stood stiffly upon the stool while an enormous woman who appeared to be her mother instructed the proprietress on how to do her job.

"Don't forget to loosen around the stomach. I don't want to be getting her another set of robes before the year is out! She's been eating so much lately she's already grown out of the ones that I bought her just six weeks ago!" the fat woman laughed, blissfully ignorant of her own large girth reflected in the mirrors all around them. "She does love her sweets."

The blonde girl's face flushed scarlet. She stared resolutely at her feet as the McGee family approached. "Be with you in just a moment," Madam Malkin said around a mouthful of pins.

Seeing the newcomers, the fat woman's face broke into a wide grin. "Ophelia McGee!"

Ophelia smiled a polite smile that she did not mean (Bernice could tell). "Dolly Little," she replied. The two woman exchanged kisses on each cheek.

_Must be another member of mother's fan club, _Bernice thought. Ophelia hosted a tea party every other Thursday, inviting women of high class with important husbands. This did not mean that Ophelia was fond of everyone that she invited. Judging by the petulant angle of her mother's mouth, Bernice could tell that the only reason she spoke to Mrs. Little was because her husband had a seat on the Wizengamot.

"Oh, I didn't ever think you would shop here!" Mrs. Little chattered. "A fine establishment, of course, but I recall the lovely robes you ordered from Paris..."

"Well, it _is_ a very special occasion," said Ophelia.

"That's right!" Dolly beamed as if Bernice were the most gorgeous girl she had ever seen. "To think, little Bernice all grown up and headed off to Hogwarts!"

Ophelia simpered. "Yes. Yes, we're all very proud of her." Bernice fought the urge to vomit.

Seeing that the women were occupied, Cornelius took his chance to excuse himself, insisting he had business to conduct at Gringotts. Dolly prattled on at a pace bordering aerobic. With pleasantries out of the way, she launched into the details of a scandalous outfit malfunction involving undergarments, chardonnay, and an errant frog. As entertaining as it was at first, the story was only really able to hold Bernice's attention long enough for her to be called to the stool. As Madam Malkin measured between her shoulder blades, her mind flitted to other ways by which she could keep herself entertained. A game, she decided.

Part of the trick with being measured was holding still. But stillness was not Bernice's style. Whenever Madam Malkin averted her gaze to jot the measurements she had taken down in her floating note book, Bernice amused herself by wobbling her knees, flapping her arms, and dancing in place until the proprietress turned back. Then she went utterly still, only to begin again a moment later. She did this so often that the white-haired girl beside her finally noticed. The girl snorted laughter, but quickly covered her mouth when Madam Malkin looked straight through her.

The proprietress frowned. "You girls behave," she said sternly. "I need a word with your parents." Madam Malkin left them to discuss material and fees with Dolly and Ophelia. Bernice took the opportunity to make conversation, since her game had taken itself away.

"Hi! I'm Berny," she announced with a smile. "Bernice, but call me Berny."

The white- haired girl smiled prettily, and tucked a curl behind her ear. Her face was round, and she had bright blue eyes. "My name is Lilac. It's very nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I like your mother," Bernice said. Mrs. Little was tittering away about silk versus satin. Ophelia looked incredibly bored. "She's very…. outspoken."

"Oh, no, she's not my mother," Lilac interjected, shifting from foot to foot upon her stool. "She's my aunt. My mother passed away when I was very young."

"Oh…I'm sorry."

"It's all right, it happened a long time ago," Lilac reassured.

Silence fell between them. _Well, this is awkward_, thought Bernice. She had to rectify this. But how?

"Hey! Do you want to go get an ice cream after this?" she asked suddenly.

Lilac hesitated. "That would be …nice."

Bernice glanced over at their parents. Mother, she knew, was meticulous about clothes, especially when it came to her daughter's. She needed the right cut to soften her Bernice's boney shoulders and hide her knobby knees, the right color to bring out her grey eyes and brighten her dull brown hair, and the right shoes to make her feet look smaller. They could be here for hours.

"Wait here." Bernice leapt from her perch and waited, with false patience as she had been taught, for one of the three women to notice her. "Excuse me, mother?" she cut in.

"Yes, dear?"

"Seeing as this will take some time, could my friend Lilac and I go to the ice cream parlor while you make your selections?"

Dolly Little seemed more delighted by the suggestion than even her niece. She beamed at Lilac, who had since followed Bernice off her stool and stood nearby. "Oh, you've already made friends! How sweet," she cooed. "Would you like to go my dear?"

Lilac nodded, "Yes, ma'am," she whispered.

Dolly regarded Ophelia expectantly."Well, if it's alright with you, it's alright with me," she declared.

Ophelia, in turn, arched a brow back at her daughter. "But dear, don't you want to help pick your outfits?" she asked.

"I trust your judgment, mother," Bernice replied smoothly. "You know what looks best on me."

Ophelia looked thoughtful for a moment. _No doubt calculating the merits of befriending Mrs. Little's niece,_ Bernice thought blithely to herself. Apparently the advantages outweighed the disadvantages, because she nodded. "Very well," she said, "I will meet you at _Ollivander's _in exactly two hours."

It was all Bernice could do not to race for the door. "Thank you mother," she said.

The moment they were out of sight of the front window, Bernice's high society act dropped like a rock. She grinned from ear to ear, hiked up her robes, and began to run. "RACE YA!"

"What?!" Lilac squeaked. "Oh, wait. _Wait_!"

Bernice ran ahead as if she had not heard, cackling all the way.


	4. Chapter 3: Peaches and Cream

(Wow! Thanks for the views and reviews. Especially from those of you who are anonymous, and I can't thank directly. It's been really encouraging! - Leun)

* * *

**Chapter 3: Peaches and Cream**

"So, there are twenty nine knuts to a sickle, and seventeen sickles to a galleon," Merryl explained.

"Why is it so uneven?"

"Don't ask me, I didn't invent it. But I'm sure whoever did had a good reason."

Joshua and his new friend, Merryl Hawthorn, walked several feet in front of her parents, who lagged behind and seemed to be deep in conversation. The partly cloudy sky had cleared, and the day beamed bright and beautiful. Joshua switched his large brown paper bag of robes from hand to hand.

"Isn't Muggle money the same?" Merryl challenged.

Joshua frowned. "No. We've...we've got pennies, and shillings, and pounds. Twelve pennies to a shilling, and twenty shillings to a pound."

"Well, who decided it was so? That sounds awfully uneven to me."

"It's totally even!"

"No, not really. It seems arbitrary. What makes twelve and twenty better than twenty nine and seventeen?"

Joshua floundered for an answer. "I...don't...I don't know, alright, but that's just the way it is!"

Much to his chagrin, Merryl laughed. "Ohhh, don't frown so much," she said, jostling his arm good-naturedly. "Look! We're here!"

_Florean's Ice Cream Parlour _stood happily at the corner of a Diagon Alley and Channing Square, a sunny little marketplace with tables set out front, and plenty of people coming and going. The Hawthorns and Joshua entered the crowded shop and stood beside one another looking up at the impressive list of flavors above their heads. Joshua couldn't imagine what more than half of them would taste like. Apparently, wizards were a lot more inventive with their flavors than Muggles were.

"What's your favorite?" Merryl asked after a while. "I'm partial to Strawberry Lemon Wizbang, myself."

Joshua considered. "I don't know," he said slowly. He eyed the intimidating list of flavors and found himself overwhelmed by choices. "I don't get out often. Any suggestions?"

"I just said my favorite was the strawberry-lemon," Merryl pointed out.

Joshua's lips twitched in a small smile. "What about peach?"

"Peach? Peach what?"

Joshua pointed with his free hand. "Just...peach. Plain old peach."

Merryl giggled. "That's not very exciting. But fine! Do what you'd like. Ignore my vote." Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorn paid for the ice creams, and the lot of them retired to a shaded table out front of the shop. With his lovely cold treat in hand, Joshua fell to people watching. It was one of his favorite hobbies, and Diagon Alley provided no shortage of entertainment. Here, old witches with wide-brimmed hats shared news of home and family: entertainers on the corner threw crackers into the air that popped at their zenith, to rain glitter and feathers down on delighted children below; women in beautifully colored cloaks, and their dark-robed escorts alongside. There were plenty of young people, as well, with their parents. Joshua wondered if they were Hogwarts students, too.

Suddenly, a pair of well-dressed girls came ripping down the street, dodging between passersby at breakneck pace. Joshua watched with great interest as the tall, thin girl in the lead stopped to catch her breath within earshot. Fraying braids cascaded down her back in unkempt streamers. "Come on, you can make it!" she encouraged the portly girl floundering along behind her.

"B-Berny! These are new shoes!" the girl cried as she finally caught up, her snow-white curls wild. "Aunt Dolly will be most upset with me if I scuff them."

"Oh, don't worry," Braids insisted. She bent over so far that Snow White's feet were only a couple of inches from her nose. "It's just dirt. You'll be fine."

Really?" Snow White examined them with evident concern.

"Really," Braids answered, and stood straight again, her hair swaying back and forth. "Now come on, let's go get some ice cream!"

Together, the two of them disappeared into the parlor. Joshua realized the spoon in his mouth had been empty for some time, and hastened to rectify that situation.

"So," Merryl said suddenly. "How much do you know about wizards?"

Joshua licked his ice cream."I know that they deliver the post by owl," he said hesitantly.

"Do you know anything about Hogwarts?"

"It's...a school?"

Merryl sighed. "Oh dear," she said. "That bad. Hmmmm….Where are you from, originally? I've never heard an accent like yours before."

"Accent?"

"Mm hmm."

Joshua frowned. "I've not got an accent."

"Yes you do!"

"I've not got an accent," Joshua insisted indignantly, sticking another spoonful of peaches and cream into his mouth. "You do."

Merryl giggled. "Fine, alright. _I've _the accent. Now, where are you from?"

Joshua chewed thoughtfully. "Wales," he said around his mouthful. "Down by the ocean."

"Oh myyy. So far away!"

Josh shook his head. "Not so far. Three hours by train."

"Mmm. Well, I guess that's not bad...we're from London, ourselves. Twenty minute walk to the Leaky Cauldron."

"That's where we came in, right?" Joshua asked uneasily.

Merryl nodded yes. "It's protected by magic, though. If you came alone, did the barkeep let you inside?"

"Mm-hmm," Joshua affirmed. He did not add that it had taken some convincing. The proprietor was initially skeptical that Joshua should be in the bar at all. He had to show the man both his Hogwarts letter and a note from Finch, signed, before he was convinced. Apparently Joshua did not exactly look the magical sort.

Across the way, the racing girls re-emerged from _Florence's_, each carrying a different flavor in their hands. Braids had a bowl, while Snow White carried a cone. Joshua was the sort to notice that that she liked plain peaches, too. They took a seat just a table away. Joshua scraped the last chunks of fruit off the bottom of his bowl and busied himself with eavesdropping.

"Your hair is all a mess," Snow White said.

"Mmmm," Braids replied as she dug hungrily into her great bowl of ice cream. There must have been ten scoops, all of them a different hue. Clearly, her hair was the last thing on her mind.

"Won't your mother be upset?" Snow White asked worriedly

Braids ignored the question."It's PISTACIO," she announced around spoonful of green ice cream."Every color is supposed to be something different, you know. I bet you anything that one is lemon sorbet."

Merryl, noticing Joshua's eyes were elsewhere, followed his gaze. "What are you staring at?" she asked.

"Nothing.'" He swallowed his last mouthful of ice cream.

Merryl glanced from Joshua, to the girls, and back again. Suddenly, she said, "Want to invite them over to sit?"

Joshua's mouth fell open. "Uh?"_Where did she get that impression_?

Over at the other table, Snow White rose from her seat, gave her cone over to Braids' temporary custody, and went about trying to rearrange the mess of her hair into something more ladylike.

"If they're so interesting, we might as well say hello. Right?" Merryl asked.

Joshua did not agree. His face clouded. "I don't..." He trailed off, suddenly awkward.

Merryl cocked her head. "Don't what?"

"I don't...want...any more people," Joshua stuttered. He didn't do very well in groups. One new face per day was plenty.

Merryl's face softened sympathetically. "Oh," she said kindly. "Alright then, we don't have to."

A cry of dismay split the air. Snow White wore an expression of utter horror. "Oh no! Ohhh, ohh..."She took Braids by the arm, and helped the tall girl to stand. A gooey lump of ice cream slipped out of her lap and fell wetly to the ground. It left an oozing stain in its wake. "Oh Merlin! This is crushed velvet!"

Braids did not share her friend's distress. She laughed, and laughed and laughed, and did not seem to be able to stop.

Merryl took pity on them. She sighed and pulled some paper napkins out of the dispenser on the table. It was such an awfully modern looking instrument in this otherwise fantastic place that it took Joshua by surprise. "You stay here," she told him."I'll go help."

Joshua was dismayed. _Help! Why! It's not our problem_! Bewildered, he gaped as Merryl approached the girls and offered Snow White her handful of napkins. "Here."

Snow White fixed the new arrival with desperate eyes. A moment later, she deflated. "Oh thank you! Thank you! You're so kind."

Merryl covered her mouth, hiding a smile behind her hand. "You're welcome," she said.

Snow White took the napkins and began to dab the ice cream stain on Braids' dress. "I am so, so sorry, Bernice! Your mother is going to be furious..."

By now, Merryl's parents had noticed the commotion. They approached with their bags gathered together, Joshua's included in the lot. "What's all this, then?" Mr. Hawthorn asked.

Braids, wasting no time, grinned and wrapped one arm around Snow White's shoulders. "I got pooped on by a giant owl," she explained.

Snow White flushed scarlet. "That isn't funny."

Mr. Hawthorn handed his bags off to his wife, and pulled out his wand. It was small, made of pale pine wood, and evidently loved. "Owl droppings, are they?" he asked, casting amused blue eyes in Lilac's direction."Fret you not, little miss. Such things are not forever! _Scourgify_." With an easy flick of Mr. Hawthorn's wrist, and a gently muttered word, the ice cream lifted itself right out of the fabric of Bernice's dress, spattering on the cobbles as sticky wet rain. "There. Good as new."

Joshua stared. Even though he had seen magic performed once before, it still startled him.

Snow White's round cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Braids was unaffected by shame. She wrapped her friend in a real hug, and swayed her back and forth. "Hey, see? No more stain. We're off the hook." Turning to Merryl's parents, she added, "Thank you, Misterrrrrr…?"

"Harris Hawthorn," Mr. Hawthorn replied. He was a tall, balding man with crow's feet just like his wife's, a brown mustache, and a ready smile. Merryl took after her mother in looks, but her father in temperament. He rose to his feet. "You can call me Mr. Hawthorn. This is my wife, and my daughter Merryl, and..." He craned his neck around animatedly, finding Joshua behind him. "Ah, there he is. And this is our afternoon charge, Joshua! Who might you be, little ladies?"

The new girls curtsied together as if they had rehearsed it."I am Bernice McGee," Bernice announced. "But call me Berny. Or else."

"My name is Lilac Little," Lilac said shyly."It is a pleasure to meet you all."

"McGee?" Mr. Hawthorn asked. "I do believe I've heard that name before, a very long time ago. Seems to me your grandfather was into Quidditch supplies, wasn't he? Or something of the like? Sporty, if I recall."

"He still is," Bernice corrected, "McGee's Quidditch Equipment, though he's using his twilight years trying to shape up the Chudley Cannons into a proper team. Sadly, we're down zero to five, and it's only the beginning of the season."

"The Cannons, eh?" Mr. Hawthorn, who was something of a sports fan, stroked his moustache thoughtfully. "You know, I didn't realize he owned the team...When did that happen?"

"Dearest, I don't mean to intrude, but would it be terribly rude of me to ask that we save the Quidditch for later?" Mrs. Hawthorn sighed. "We've lots of shopping to do yet before the sun goes down."

"Oh yes, yes! Of course! Sorry, cupcake. My fault entirely."

Joshua sidled out from behind the Hawthorns and stood by Merryl's side. He wondered if, given that Mrs. Hawthorn still had his bag, he would be continuing his time in Diagon Alley with them. He decided, slowly, that he would be alright with that. They had been kind to him. He would follow, for a bit longer.

Merryl beamed up at her father. "We should go to _Flourish and Blotts_ next! Oh please!"

Mr. Hawthorn seemed unsure."It...was on our list of places to be, yes." He looked to his wife for confirmation. She did not seem to understand her husband's deference.

"And what, might I ask, are we going to do in _Flourish and Blotts_?" she asked.

"Why, buy books, of course!" exclaimed Mr. Hawthorn. "Come now, Mum, I trust you to have these things under control."

Mrs. Hawthorn pinked. "Quite so...

Bernice perked. "Then, could Lilac and I perhaps join you? We don't have anywhere to be for a couple of hours."

Mr. Hawthorn turned back to the gaggle of eleven year olds at his feet. "Why, of course! Yes, absolutely. We've only just started the day, after all. Future Hogwarts graduates, I presume? I'd expect no less from the McGee and Little families..."

* * *

So Mr. Hawthorn and his wife led the way down Diagon Alley in the direction of the bookstore, with Merryl, Joshua, Bernice and Lilac following in step like a train of well-behaved goslings. Joshua kept Merryl in between him and the new girls, because he wasn't entirely sure what to make of the others, yet..

"So," Bernice said. She folded her hands behind her head as she walked in a manner decidedly unladylike. "Merryl and...Josh. Hogwarts too, right?"

Merryl nodded excitedly. "Mm-hmm! Oooh, I'm thrilled. My letter showed up two weeks ago, and Dad's been riding on clouds ever since. He always hoped I would take after him."

"Mm," Bernice grunted, noncommittal. "What house do you think you'll be sorted into?"

Merryl shook her head. "I'm sure I've no clue. Hufflepuff wouldn't be so bad. I know they say that Hufflepuffs are the castoffs, but Daddy was a Hufflepuff, and he's wonderful."

"My family has always been in Slytherin," Bernice said, rolling her eyes. "We're as notorious as the Malfoys for that. I'm hoping for Gryffindor, personally."

Lilac looked very confused. Joshua sympathized utterly, but he listened without voicing any of his concern. "Erm…. My mother and Aunt went to Beauxbatons, so I'm not very familiar with the Hogwarts houses."

Merryl happily offered what she knew. "Well, I'm no expert. But it's the brave and the proud who end up in Gryffindor. Hufflepuff is if you're kind, and Ravenclaw, they're if you're smart. Slytherin..." Merryl made a face. "I'm not sure what makes people end up there. I think it has something to do with old wizarding families and an inflated self image. But oh! Sorry, Berny, no offense meant."

Bernice shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh no, no, old and inflated describes my family perfectly. I've also heard that Slytherin is full of back stabbers and liars; that Ravenclaw of arrogant know-it-alls; that Hufflepuffs are all pansies, and Gryffindor is for the thump-chest-me-brave-and-righteous-huurrr!" Bernice pounded her breast for emphasis. Then, she shrugged. "But really it's all hogwash, hence the name Hogwarts! What other school sorts their students by personality?"

Bernice McGee made sounds Joshua had never heard from a human being before. He wondered if that was by merit of being a witch, or perhaps something else. He was tempted towards the latter. "...What have you got against Hogwarts?" he asked shrewdly.

"You'll see when we get there."

Lilac frowned prettily. "What? Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Phineas Nigellus Black is the Headmaster," Bernice explained. "Of _course_ there's something wrong."

"Oh, but he's been headmaster for years," Merryl scoffed. "The school hasn't exploded, yet."

"He's a Black," Bernice said flatly."They're into the sloooooow torture." She curled her fingers in front of her as she spoke, as if choking an invisible neck. "I should know; I've had to go through every Yule dinner at home sitting across from him."

For the first time, Joshua began to feel a little uneasy about going away to school. Torture? He caught Lilac's blue eyes, and shared her evident anxiety.

"Oh, pish posh," Merryl scoffed. "If he _really_ tortured the students, we would have heard about it by now."

Bernice only shook her head. "You'll see," she said.

* * *

Ownership at _Flourish and Blotts_ had changed over the years, but it had been for as long as any wizard alive could remember. Within, books covered almost every conceivable surface. Leather-bound volumes more than six inches thick, tiny pocket guides to the rich and magical, compendiums of herbs and other miscellaneous knowledge; all lined the shelves and sat stacked on tables, the air smelling so strongly of dust and ink and binding glue that Joshua would forever associate these things with his first day in the wizarding world. That, and peaches ice cream.

It didn't take him long to lose himself (and the others) among the aisles of books. He didn't get much chance to read back at home. He was too busy working. Sometimes, on a Sunday off, he would take his father's worn black Bible off its shelf in the living room, a leaf through the stories of Noah, and Job, and Melchizedek, who was his favorite because he liked the way the name sounded aloud. Mostly, though, he skipped to the lacquered pages in the middle of the book, with all the pretty pictures.

Brushing careful fingers along the rows and rows of leather bindings, Joshua progressed down the aisle with his book list open in his opposite hand. In the middle of wondering how on earth he was supposed to find anything in this place, one of the titles caught his eye. He paused.

_Draconus Illuminus; a Field Guide to Dragons and their Ilk,_ by Roberta Blodgett. Distracted, Joshua slipped the title of its shelf and began to flip through the pages. It hadn't occurred to him until just now that if magic was real, than all the magical creatures might be, also. And dragons, of course, were the greatest of these. Suddenly his heart was pounding very fast. The book was filled with sketches, of Hungarian Horntails, Chinese Fireballs, Peruvian Viperteeth. With each page, Joshua grew more and more excited. It detailed what they ate, where they lived, what their babies looked like! If only this was on the reading list!

"What did you find?"

Joshua started at the voice. He looked up, surprised and a little embarrassed, to find Lilac standing next to him with a smile on her face. She hugged several books close to her chest.

"Oh." Joshua closed his volume sheepishly, and held it out for Lilac to look at. "This."

Lilac read the title. "You like dragons?" she asked.

Joshua nodded emphatically. "A lot," he explained. "But I never thought..." He cut himself off. It would seem so silly to her maybe, that he was getting so worked up over this. She had probably lived with dragons as a reality for her entire life. So, instead of saying what he thought, he told her, "Ever since I can remember, there were always...I mean…have you seen the… the little lizards?" He made claw gestures with his hands. "The ones that live in your fireplace?"Joshua wasn't entirely sure if she would think he was crazy. He had tried to share with his mother and father once, and the boys back home, but they had only laughed. That was years ago now, but the memory still bothered him. Muggles didn't believe you when you said that kind of thing.

To his relief, Lilac nodded. "In my mother's house yes. Mother used to say, fire salamanders are good luck, but Aunty wards all of the fireplaces to keep them out." She handed back the book to him, looking a little sorry.

Joshua took the book back, and a delighted smile bubbled up from somewhere inside him. "They're good for conversation. Even though they don't say very much," he said, as much pleased as relieved that she had _known what he was talking about._ He had never thought anyone would, really.

Reluctantly he put the book back, and took inventory on his list again. Though long, there was nothing about dragons written there. He sighed.

Lilac shuffled the books in her arms. "Why don't you buy it?"

Joshua didn't reply for a second or two. "Oh...Erm, I don't know how much everything's going to cost, you know? I've only got, erm..." He frowned as he mentally did the math. "Forty nine galleons, fifteen sickles, and fourteen knuts left to spend." His face relaxed, concluding, "I've got to be careful."

"What if you get it used?" Lilac suggested. Joshua stared at her, confused.

"Huh?"

Lilac found some space for her books on a nearby table, and drew out another copy of the _Field Guide_. Placed alongside the first, it was a little scruffy around the edges, but the sticker price was more agreeable. She offered it to him. "If you buy all used books, I think you can get this too. And I can cover, if you go over," she offered tentatively.

Joshua took the book, suddenly unsure. He leafed through the worn pages and saw the logic of Lilac's words. And yet...

Joshua was a poor boy, but he had his pride. He could accept a scholarship from Professor Finch, because Finch was an adult, and adults weren't to be questioned. But charity from a girl his own age who he had only just met felt wrong. "I'm sorry, erm...I can't. I've no idea how much a wand is going to cost. And, ink, and quills, and...and a telescope and a _cauldron, _bleeding 'ell. Thank you, but...I'll come back some other time," he lied.

"Oh…all right." Lilac looked a touch crestfallen. Joshua felt he had said a bad thing, suddenly, but did not know how to apologize. They stood awkwardly for a moment or two.

Joshua inclined further into the shop. "…Want to keep looking for books?"

That seemed to be the right thing, because Lilac's shy smile returned. "Okay," she said. Joshua was glad. He didn't know what he would have done if she had said no. Maybe he could make one new friend into two, today, if he was careful...


	5. Chapter 4: Proper Wizards

**Chapter 4: Proper Wizards**

After _Flourish and Blotts_, they made their way through the other shops on Diagon Alley. They went to _Amanuensis Quills_ for ink, reams of parchment paper, quills, and other stationary: _Potage's Cauldron Shop_ for glass phials and basic potion-making ingredients: even _Eeylop's Owl Emporium_, after cat food for Merryl's pet angora, Silk. By the time two hours had passed, Joshua's legs were beginning to ache, and his nerves were over-saturated by so much new information. His brain was positively buzzing. They saved the very best for last.

The gold leaf plaque above Ollivander's wand shop proclaimed that it had been built in 382 BC. Squeezed between a knick-knacks shop and what appeared to be a store stocking Divination supplies, Joshua didn't find it particularly impressive. But Mr. Hawthorn's eyes lit up from within when he said, "This is where I got my first wand when I was your age. They say the son's taken over business in the past year. Supposed to go about wands rather differently than his father, but I hear very good things, very good things indeed..."

He opened the front door. A silver bell chimed somewhere deep within the shop. The storefront itself was barren of adornment, lit only by an eerie blue lamp that cast soft shadows about the room, even with the heat of the summer afternoon burning outside. A tall, willowy woman and round, handsome man stood already at the counter with their backs to the door.

"Oh, hell." Bernice swore lowly. Suddenly, she snatched Joshua's paperboy cap right off of his head and stuffed it into her bag.

Joshua startled. "Oy! What was- Give that back!"

Bernice utterly ignored him. She didn't even meet his eyes. Instead, she swept into the shop and declared, "Hello mother! Father!"

Ophelia McGee turned to her daughter and sighed. "Hello, dear." Her eyes flickered up to her daughter's entourage. The barest of frowns creased her brow. "Who are these?"

"Mother, this is Mr. Hawthorn and his wife. Lilac and I met them while we were at the ice cream parlor."

Mr. Hawthorn inclined his head politely. "Pleasure to meet you, marm."

Ophelia only nodded. "...charmed. Cornelius, darling, the children have returned."

Cornelius was deep in conversation with the proprietor, Mr. Ollivander. He took only passing notice that Ophelia had said anything at all. " What do you mean my wand feels neglected? I have the house elves polish it biweekly."

Mr. Ollivander spoke in hushed, lyrical tones, at all appearances greatly amused. His wide, misty grey eyes glittered in the gloom. "But with all due respect, Mr. McGee, what do you _do_ with it? What kinds of things do you do in your everyday life to keep your wand happy and satisfied? A good wand is much akin to a good wife. To polish her and dress her in fine clothing is a step, but more than that, you need to _be_ together. Is it remotely possible that perhaps you've been neglecting that relationship, of late...?"

Cornelius flustered. "Excuse me? What I do with my wife has nothing to do with my wand."

"Darling," Ophelia cut in again. "The children..."

With a great huff, Cornelius made way for Mr. and Mrs., Hawthorn to bring Merryl to the counter. Joshua quickly came to the conclusion that Mr. McGee was a few walnuts short of a good Christmas bread. He clapped his hands over his bare head and hung back by the door with Lilac.

Mr. Ollivander smiled at Mr. Hawthorn with honest delight. "Ahhh, Mr. Harris Hawthorn. Pine and unicorn hair, ten and a half inches, slightly swishy, if I recall. I wasn't the one who sold it to you, but it was a pleasure to be there to witness the purchase. One of my father's finer wands. Is this your daughter?"

Merryl curtsied sheepishly. "Hello, Mr. Ollivander," she breathed. "My name is Merryl."

"A pleasure, Miss Merryl. Why don't you get up on that stool over there, and we'll get you measured up, shall we?"

"Measured?" Mrs. Hawthorn asked.

"For length, dearest," her husband assured her quietly. "To get the proportions, right?"

Mr. Ollivander just chuckled, as if making private comment to the truth of that statement. He tapped his own wand on the counter, and a bit of measuring tape coiled up into the air like a little tan eel. It proceeded to take every conceivable measurement of Merryl Hawthorn. It was all very bizarre for Joshua to watch.

While the measuring tape did its work, Ollivander himself took a few boxes off the shelves behind him, already gauging what might be most appropriate for the youngest Hawthorn to try. There were rows and rows of them, disappearing back into the very farthest corners of the shop. Taking the first wand out if its box, he handed it to Merryl with an enigmatic little smile. "Hold this," he instructed her. "And swish it about, if you would?"

Merryl, confused and a little embarrassed, waved the wand. To the evident surprise of everyone in the shop, Ollivander snatched it almost immediately out of her grasp. "Sorry, love," the proprietor apologized, quickly offering another for her to try. "Bear with me, would you?"

Ollivander tried not one wand, not two or three, but four. Nothing out of the ordinary happened with each successive attempt, other than perhaps the color of Merryl's face, which grew redder and redder every second that passed. But then, with the fifth wand, something happened that Joshua would remember for the rest of his life.

Something in Merryl's expression changed. All at once the end of the wand exploded in a pleasing shower of red and orange sparks, lighting the room with its brilliance. Ollivander exclaimed with pleasure, and Merryl's mother cooed with delight. "And there you have it," he murmured. "Pear and phoenix feather, eleven inches, quite flexible. That does you nicely, Miss Merryl."

He bade her get down from the stool, and went about the business of wrapping the boxed wand in the by now familiar brown paper.

"You see," he explained to his audience, evidently enjoying himself. "Every witch and wizard is unique, and properly, so is every wand. It is the wand that chooses the wizard, and no two are exactly alike. They all have their own personalities, much like the magicians who wield them. My wands are crafted from only the finest materials, and choose their bearers themselves. This matching of wizard or witch to their ideal wand is the foundation of my business."

Cornelius' brow furrowed deeply. "That is highly unorthodox," he commented.

Mr. Ollivander, however, simpered at Cornelius' criticism. "Yes. Well. Change can sometimes be a good thing, don't you think?"

Bernice beamed. "Do Lilac next!" she exclaimed.

Lilac looked more than a little taken aback.

Mr. Ollivander chortled. He handed Merryl her box, and beckoned Lilac to the stand. Joshua finally took his hands off his head, excited to see what would happen next.

Through the motions Ollivander went, a smile omnipresent on his face, clearly having the time of his life. He went through wands of mahogany, fir, silver lime and holly, managing to look somehow graceful as he glided back and forth between the shelves and his customer. After a few minutes, Ollivander pulled out a white wand, petite and slight, and slipped it into Lilac's fingers. Puffy white clouds billowed from the end of the wand, like a gentle murmur of approval. This time, Joshua joined the applause.

"Willow and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches. There's a certain charm to the small size, don't you think?" he chuckled. "It is said that those who carry willow, have great potential within, but a long road to get there. Wield it well, Miss Little."

Joshua was taken aback to notice Lilac had tears in her eyes. She stared at the wand in her hand, stunned for a moment. Then she nodded. "Thank you."

"You are _most_ welcome," said Ollivander, beaming. He jotted down the sale on a pad by the money box, seven galleons standard price. Then, with a cleansing sigh, he regarded Bernice and Joshua, glancing between the two. "Who would like to be next?"

Joshua thought he would. But all of a sudden his belly was a mass of worms, and if he walked the distance between here and there, he might very well trip over himself. He glanced at Bernice, and belatedly remembered that she had his hat. The glance became a glower.

Bernice just grinned at him. She placed a hand on his back, and gave him a firm push. "Be my guest."

Joshua made a sound like a squished toad as he stumbled forward. He felt suddenly exposed, and dearly wanted his hat back.

Mr. Ollivander's crystal eyes watched him closely as he stepped shakily up onto the stool. It was all he could do not to swat at the measuring tape as it checked the distance between his nostrils. Was that really necessary?

"And what is your name?" Ollivander asked. "Another of the Hawthorn clan, I presume?"

Joshua shook his head, and then remembered to hold still for the infernal tape measure. "No. I'm Joshua. Joshua Ellis," he croaked.

"Ellis?" Ollivander asked congenially, handing him a dark ebony wand. "Not sure I've heard that name before. Try this one. Swish it about, that's a lad."

Joshua had thin, bony wrists, and delicate fingers to match. They looked dashing with the ebony. He waved obediently, but was thankfully expecting it when Ollivander snatched it out of his hands.

As Lilac before, they tried what felt like a dozen wands, of varying lengths and wood hefts, some brittle, some bendy. With each failure Joshua couldn't help but feel more and more stupid. Suddenly, he was afraid, because what if Mr. Finch had been mistaken, after all? What if he wasn't really a wizard, what if he didn't have magic at all and this was some cruel jest? What if they went through the whole shop, and couldn't find a single wand that wanted him? What if-

Ollivander handed Joshua a wand carved of a handsome dark russet wood, with a simple hilt and slight crook towards the end. All of a sudden heat rushed in Joshua's hands and face. His stomach fluttered. A bright flash of light illuminated the end of the wand and _cracked. _It smelled exactly of fireworks.

The expression on Joshua's face must have funny, because Ollivander burst into laughter. He applauded. "Bravo, bravo! I think that will do." He took the wand back and packaged it with surprising speed. "Cherry and dragon heartstring, twelve inches even. Be careful, Mr. Ellis. You might singe someone's eyebrows off if you're not!"

Joshua took the package pale faced, and got off the stool. He was having trouble finding his words. "Thanks," he croaked. He retreated back to his corner. Lilac gave him an encouraging smile. "That was wonderful," she whispered.

Joshua wasn't sure he agreed. He felt the exact opposite of wonderful, jittery and a little dumbstruck. "I wasn't expecting it to explode in my face," he said honestly. Lilac giggled.

Now only Bernice remained. She climbed unbidden up onto Ollivander's stool. The smile on her face challenged him to do his worst.

Ollivander met Bernice stare for stare. One eyebrow flickered. "And for you, Lady McGee." He drew out a few wands immediately, ready to do battle.

None of them could have quite been prepared for the wait that was to follow. Joshua thought he had taken forever, but Bernice burned through wands of ebony, dogwood, English oak, elm, hawthorn, hornbeam, and sycamore. She tried almost every kind of wood Ollivander owned, some of them twice, and still, nothing so much as a puff of smoke. Five minutes of trying turned to ten. Joshua thought he would have been ill, had he been in her shoes, but Bernice did not appear to be bothered. Instead, the smile on her face only grew with each passing failure, as if she delighted in seeing Mr. Ollivander scamper around like a frantic rat among the shelves. Like it was a game they were playing, and if Bernice could manage to hoodwink the wand-maker, she would win a prize. Mr. and Mrs. McGee didn't seem to enjoy this particular sport at all, and between the two of them burned enough anxiety for Bernice four times over.

Ten minutes turned into fifteen. Since no one else seemed inclined to sit, Joshua took a seat in the chairs by the window. He slouched, busying himself with the people passing in the street outside. After a while, pedestrians got to be more interesting than Ollivander's incessant 'try this' and 'swish that'. Somehow Bernice had turned getting her wand into something about as exciting as doing the laundry. His attention wandered farther still, to home and what his parents were doing. He had just got over the hill and back to work on Monday when-

**POP!**

Instead of fireworks, the wand in Bernice's hand vomited streamers and confetti all over the room, and everybody inside. Lilac yelped! Merryl whooped! Bernice cackled! Joshua nearly fell out of his seat.

Bernice's wand was fifteen and a half inches and wide, with a bulbous pommel weight at the end of the handle. The length was ram rod straight and tapered into a blunt point. Surprisingly bendy. Bernice was visibly pleased with herself. Mr. Ollivander turned thoughtful. "Hmmm. You know, I love each and every wand I make. But this is something of an experimental design, if I say so myself. Not precisely what I would call 'sleek'. Still! I think it should suit you quite well, quite well indeed."

Berny grinned as she twirled the heavy length of wood skillfully between her fingers. "I could use this as a Beater's bat," she laughed.

"I wouldn't suggest that!"

Mr. Hawthorn pulled an errant streamer off his head, and offered it cheekily to Mr. McGee. After a moment's consideration, he took the streamer with a thumb and forefinger, and delicately put it into the front pocket of his robe for safekeeping. It wasn't every day that a daughter got her first wand, after all.

Behind them in the shop, a small handful of other prospective students and their parents had drifted into the shop. With all four of them well taken care of, Mr. Ollivander took payment for their wands, and bid them good luck with their studies. Joshua caught one last look at the misty eyed young man over one shoulder before Mr. Hawthorn ushered them all out into the streets of Diagon Alley again. He cradled his wand against his chest.

By this time, the sun was sinking towards the West, and the crowds were beginning to thin along the Alley. "That was very successful, I think," Merryl announced.

"We're on our way to being proper wizards," Lilac added.

Ophelia McGee touched her daughter's shoulder. "Come Bernice, it's time to celebrate! Say farewell to your friends."

Joshua heard Bernice sigh. He couldn't help a little smirk. "'Bye, Bernadette. Have fun at your party."

Bernice rolled her eyes. "Har, har. Here, everyone, let me hug you." She embraced Lilac first, and then Merryl. Joshua hung back. He wasn't sure how he felt about hugs, but Bernice wouldn't let him be shy. She chased him a few steps down the street before catching him in vice-like arms. "Umf! Hey!" To his surprise, he felt Bernice stuff something into his back pocket. Belatedly, he realized it was his hat. ""Be careful wearing that," she warned, so quietly no one else would hear. "It gives away what you _are_.""

Joshua's blood turned to ice. But before he could reply, she gave his bony shoulders one last squeeze, and let him go. "Promise, we're all sharing a compartment!" she shouted as she back-pedaled to join her parents.

"Promise!" Merryl returned, waving. Joshua watched Bernice go feeling decidedly uneasy. He watched her until she and her family disappeared into the crowd. Suddenly he wasn't quite sure what he should really think, about her. The wands were not the only ones confused.

* * *

Now it was just Lilac, Joshua, and the Hawthorn family. "…Are there any more shops to visit?" Lilac inquired.

"Hmmmm," hummed Mr. Hawthorn thoughtfully. He checked over his daughter's list, nodding as he ticked off each place they had been. Slowly he shook his head. "No, I think...I think that's everything. Surprising enough, eh! What do you think, Mum?"

"I think my feet are very tired, and I am quite ready to go home."

"Awww," pouted Merryl. "I wanted to go to the candies shop."

"Some other day, duckling," Mrs. Hawthorn promised.

Beside Joshua, Lilac fidgeted uneasily. She moved her bag from hand to hand. "Thank you for inviting me, Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorn. I had a lovely time."

"You, my dear, are quite welcome," chipper Mr. Hawthorn replied. He looked all about, but belatedly he remembered something. "Hold on a moment. Weren't we to meet your parents here, Miss Little?"

Lilac colored to the tips of her ears. "Um...No, I mean. She's my Aunt. And...I remember that she said she had rented a room at the Cauldron. She likes to take a nap after a day of shopping, so I bet that's where she's got to..."

"Right-o, little Miss." Mr. Hawthorn turned to Joshua. "And what about you?"

"If...the Cauldron has rooms, I'm headed there too," Joshua announced. If there were rooms to rent, he would rent one there. His train didn't leave until tomorrow evening, anyway.

Mr. Hawthorn frowned. "You're not thinking of staying here all by yourself, are you?"

"Erm...yes?"

"Because Mum and I would be happy to put you up, if you wanted."

Joshua hadn't been expecting that. He glanced to Merryl, and then to Lilac for reassurance. "Erm..."

Merryl bounced on the balls of her feet. "Oh please! Come on, Joshua, it'll be fun!"

What could he say to that? Awkwardly, Joshua pulled the brim of his hat down a little tighter, and said, "...Okay."

They made their way back to the leaky Cauldron as a group. It was a low-ceilinged, creaky little building that had probably been there for one hundred years, or maybe more. The beams were thick and dark with age, the wallpaper fading. But it was merry at the dinner hour, filled with witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes slurping pints of drink and laughing over good homemade food. Lilac spoke briefly with the barkeep, and then met the Hawthorns by the stairwell. "My Aunt is resting upstairs. Thank you again, so much, for this afternoon."

"Think nothing of it, love!" Mrs. Hawthorn insisted. "You're welcome to drop us an owl any time, if you want to see Merryl."

Lilac curtsied. She tucked a lock of her curly pale hair behind one ear, and for a moment, hesitated. "Alright. Well..."

"I'll help with your bags." Joshua wasn't really sure what made him offer, other than he rather liked Lilac. He thought she resembled the cherubs he saw on the ceiling Sundays at church, when Father was able to take him. Without waiting for Lilac to answer, he took one of her bags from the floor beside her and led the way up the stairs.

The rented rooms at the Leaky Cauldron were tucked away on the second floor, each of varying sizes and shapes but all with an air to comfort. A window lit a central sitting room with warm orange light and dancing dust motes. An owl snoozed comfortably on a peg by one open window, its head tucked under one chocolate-colored wing.

"Which room is your Aunt's?" Joshua asked Lilac as she came up behind him. The girl didn't immediately reply. She kept her eyes on his shoes, and gathered herself before answering.

"Joshua, this is very kind. But you needn't. Just please, leave my things here. Merryl's family is waiting for you."

Joshua stared at her, but said nothing for a long time. He hadn't had much time to think about it before, but suddenly, this all struck him as very odd. Lilac was doing a good job of hiding it, but something was wrong about this whole situation. Call him crazy, but suddenly, Joshua didn't think that Aunty Little was here at all.

"...It's alright. I mean, you have a way home, don't you?"

"What?" Lilac looked him straight in the eye. She pulled at the necklace around her neck, a single pearl on a length of pink ribbon.

"A way to get home. To wherever your Aunt is."

"Wh...what are you talking about? My Aunt is just resting! She's in one of these rooms, and I'll see her when she wakes up, and you don't need to worry about me!"

Joshua frowned. He put her bag down on the floor and scratched the back of his neck. "...Sorry. I guess I assumed...I'll go now."

He got halfway to the landing when Lilac called softly after him. "Wait, Joshua!"

Joshua stopped. Lilac didn't say anything for a second or two, but she obviously meant to. "Look. Please, don't tell the Hawthorns, alright? I don't want them to fuss over me, I beg you..."

Slowly, Joshua nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, no. I get it. But...you do have a way home, right?"

"Yes. It's not the first time Aunt Dolly's forgotten me on a shopping trip," Lilac replied feebly. "She doesn't mean to do it. She's just, erm, forgetful sometimes. She really doesn't mean it."

"They don't, usually." Joshua thought of his own mother, and her lily white breasts, and things an eleven year old boy should not see. He thought of how sometimes, she was so drunk, she forgot to cook supper. Or she ate what he made, and threw it all up again. How she cried in her sleep. He thought also of all the things that made her his Mum, how she sometimes stumbled into his room at night, and stroked his face and sang to him, and reminded him that he was her baby, and always would be. Even if she was sodded, she was his mother, in the end. Even though sometimes she forgot. "My mum's like that, too."

Lilac chewed on her lip. She nodded. "Thank you." All at once she came back to herself. "Oh! Before you go." She dug deep into the bag that Joshua had just helped her with, and took out a little black book, bound in leather. She thrust it into his hands.

"...What's this?"

"For you." Lilac smiled shyly at him. "It's a gift. I've got one just like it at home. I think it'll be useful to you."

Joshua didn't know what to say. He fumbled with the pages just to have something to do. It looked to be a potions almanac. "But-!"

"No buts! I got out of the bargain bin. It's...It's got a copy of my address inside. So you and Merryl can write me this summer? You will share it with her, won't you? The address, not the book. The book is yours."

The low rumble of voices drifted up through the floorboards, the only sound to break the sudden silence between them. Joshua thought he might be blushing. "Sure! Sure. I'll do that."

"Good." Lilac opened her arms, then, and did a little jig in place. Joshua realized all at once that she wanted a hug. He was no good at hugs. But addresses meant friends, and friends meant hugs, he supposed. At least when your friend was a girl. Feeling a little foolish, Joshua obliged her.

"September first?" she asked.

"September first," Joshua reassured her.

Lilac dimpled. She gathered all her things to her and perched on the edge of one of the little loveseats in living room. She waved. Joshua scampered down the stairs and met Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorn by the door.


End file.
